


Tie Your Drummer Down

by Hoppskibjack



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Dry Humping, Light BDSM, M/M, Rope Bondage, Rope guru, Safe Sane and Consensual, it's always the quiet ones, thank you fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoppskibjack/pseuds/Hoppskibjack
Summary: A month after John joined the band he mentioned liking rope to a fanzine. Years later, a copy of that fanzine is brought to the band's attention and that's all it takes for Roger's long simmering idea of being tied up to come out into the open. Brian is happy to oblige and then some.





	Tie Your Drummer Down

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest thanks to flydale_north who supported the idea, beta'd this thing and talked me through it.  
> There is actually a fanzine and here's a scan (https://imgur.com/a/5w0EVMG) with John saying rope is one of his favourite things, that sparked this fic.  
> Let's be honest this is nothing more than made up porn held together with a thin plot.

It was just a comment John made for a fanzine years ago, meant for a laugh – or at least that’s what Roger had assumed. You could only answer a question like, “What are your favorite things?” so many times before you started making stuff up to keep yourself interested. “John’s favourite things,” Roger read aloud. “Tight Wellingtons? Waxed string? _Rope?_ ” he asked, looking up from the paper and over at the band’s bassist. 

John just shrugged, giving a small smile; a little unnerving, if Roger was honest. Maybe John just had a weird side that he was finally letting out to play. Good for him. 

It was all coming up now after one of the members of Queen accidentally dug up a copy of the fanzine and one particular comment. “Deacy, you’ve been holding out on us! Rope?” Freddie had asked, waving the fanzine as he entered the rehearsal space. John popped his head up again from the magazine he was reading with a slower, easier smile. “You are full of surprises, darling; about time we had a kinky fellow in this band. These two can be so dull.” He gestured with a wave at Brian and Roger. 

When John didn’t argue the title of “kinky”, Roger started wondering. He tried to satisfy his curious mind by reading a bondage magazine he had bought in a small town in the midwest, secreted away from the rest of the band and their inevitable jokes. Unlike years ago, when he’d first thought about being bound, alone time now was few and far between, with Brian visiting him in his bunk whenever they had time. A lot had changed since that month after John had joined the band: he hadn’t been sleeping with Brian back then, for one.

The appearance of the fanzine and its cheeky comment was enough to keep Roger quiet, his mind whirling about solutions to this ‘problem’ he seemed to be unable to cope with himself. What if he didn’t cope with it by himself?

“Strange question…” Roger suddenly said, louder than he’d meant to in the quiet room, breaking the silence. After thinking about it for two days, he had determined this was one of the few times alone with Brian that he could ask this kind of question without Freddie interjecting and detailing his own very personal experiences. He tried to avoid looking at Brian, even as the guitarist turned his head towards him. 

“Sorry, what’s that, Rog?” 

“Oh, uh.” He cleared his throat. “Strange question, feel free not to answer.” He tried to look nonchalant and at anything other than the curly-haired man, and only succeeded in looking awkward. “Have you ever been tied up, Bri?” Fantastic. He had planned six different ways to ask this question, and naturally the bluntest had forced itself to the front. If only he could have got the idea and the image out of his head, he could have avoided having this awkward conversation. But it was bigger than that. It wasn’t just any image: it was the image of himself in bondage that wouldn’t leave his head. The persistent thought of what it would feel like to have coils of rope tightly clinging to his skin, restricting his movement and biting into him when he struggled. 

“You mean like robbed? Tied to a chair kind of thing?” 

Roger wanted to thump his head against the table. “Don’t be daft! No, like bondage, sex… kind of thing.” He sighed and put his head in his hands. This was a stupid idea. “Forget I asked, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“It’s ok. Yeah, I have a few times. On both sides,” Brian admitted easily, patiently, as though the question was so commonplace he answered it three times before breakfast for curious children. He set down the cloth in his hand, putting Red Special on a stand, and pulled up a chair across from Roger. “Why do you ask?” 

To say Roger was surprised would be an understatement. He had expected an answer like that from Freddie, but Brian? “Oh.” He also hadn’t expected follow up questions. “Something John said in that old fanzine. He mentioned rope and it got me thinking what it might be like.”

“To be tied up?” Brian raised an eyebrow, and Roger saw the smirk starting at the corner of his lips. “Is that all it takes? What happens when you see me changing a guitar string?”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Forget I mentioned it.” 

“No, Rog, if you want to try that out I’d welcome the opportunity. I just might need John to help me out.” 

“He can join us if he wants,” Roger said with a grin. Brian responded with a sigh. “You’re in charge,” Roger continued. He expected this to be the end of it so he was throwing all his cards on the table now. They had toyed around with blindfolds; Brian had said he loved how responsive Roger was when wearing a blindfold, and of course there was the odd toy, but nothing to this level. He felt his bravado showing. “Just tell me when, Mr. May.” 

“I will, Mr. Taylor,” Brian said with a chuckle, resting a hand on his shoulder and gently pressing their lips together. 

The “when” turned out to be the very next evening. Roger sat tapping away on a tabletop with his drumsticks, his attention drifting from the rhythm he was working out to Brian and John across the room. Both men were excited over amps they had custom-ordered, brought in by John’s guitar tech, who had disappeared to take Freddie somewhere. It had been almost fifteen minutes and neither of them had even plugged in a guitar. “Maybe you can try out the amp, instead of just chatting about it?” Roger asked with a smirk.

Two heads glanced up, Brian rolling his eyes and John giving an easy smirk. “We weren’t talking about amps,” Deacy said lightly, fingers easily coiling up a guitar lead absentmindedly. “Brian was telling me he wanted to borrow some rope.”

Roger’s stomach flipped. “For what?”

“To tie you _up_ with.” John’s words were staccato beats, emphasis placed as if to elicit some sort of response. 

Roger wondered if his cheeks were as red as they felt. The bassist’s little trick had worked. He laughed to hide his embarrassment. “It’s just for fun. Try something new, you know.”

“How’s tomorrow sound?” Brian asked, looking first to John, who nodded, and then to Roger.

Roger’s pride didn’t allow any other response than an enthusiastic, “Sounds great!” His stomach flipped again and he went back to his rhythm, trying to ignore the thoughts and images of his skin wrapped up in rope.

Saturday arrived, and Roger found himself wearing nothing but comfortable trousers and kneeling on the floor in a spare space they used to tune up guitars. “You both know what you’re doing, right?” Roger’s voice was perhaps a little bit higher than normal. “I’m not your test dummy or anything?” 

“You’re fine,” Deacy said, resting a hand on the drummer’s naked shoulder. Brian wound the rope snug around Roger’s first wrist to his second, securing it with a no-slip knot. It was a shorter piece of smooth rope, meant to form a set of rope handcuffs without cutting into the skin. It was taut, not tight, but drew his shoulders back, exposing and pushing his bare chest forward. “We can stop anytime you want, Rog,” John said, pointing out a twisted part of the rope for Brian to fix. “You just need to say. I won’t be far, and I have shears that can cut through it.”

Roger took a breath in and exhaled it long and slow, nodding at John’s words as John walked across the room and sat in a chair he had brought in from the hall. John was there to advise and supervise, they had decided before they had begun, but Brian was doing the actual tying. It was Brian’s hands skimming his skin with each pass of the rope, bringing sparks of heat to his flesh. His skin felt like it was vibrating, like the rush he got waiting to go on stage. He flexed his wrists when Brian stopped wrapping, which made the other man straighten up and come forward into his line of sight. 

“Too tight?” Brian had a look of concern painted across his features that made Roger briefly smile. 

“It’s fine,” Roger replied quickly, needing the response just as much as it was meant to soothe Brian’s feelings. “I’m just getting used to it.”

“Tell me if it gets uncomfortable,” Brian reminded him for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

“I will.” Roger managed to keep himself from saying anything flippant back at the other man. He meant well. This wasn’t meant as discipline: it was a learning experience that Roger had asked about, and that Brian had offered to administer with John’s assistance. Everything about their little experiment was designed to be comfortable. He was glad that although he had initially scoffed at the folded blanket that was now under his knees, Brian had insisted. As the minutes passed, it kept the ache away, whether he sat back on his heels as he did now, or posted up on them completely. The gentle push on his wrists encouraged him back up onto his knees, and he glanced back at Brian, who didn’t even seem to acknowledge the look. 

Oh, but Brian was paying attention. Brian trailed a calloused finger up his spine slowly, starting at his bound wrists and then meandering from barely visible bump on his spine to the next. It made chills run over his skin even in the relative warmth of the room. Whether it was because of Deacy’s presence – who was trying not to stare – or because of the rope binding his wrists, he didn’t know, but the sensations Brian was bringing about with just a fingertip were stronger than any he had felt before. He pushed back against the touch, and Brian’s full hand, warm against his skin, cradled his back not far above his wrists. His other hand was reaching down for the coil of rope next to Roger. 

“Still OK, Rog?” 

Roger nodded, feeling the chill across his skin begin to dissipate and a new heat begin to pool in his stomach. When Brian spoke again, his words were directed toward John, but Roger’s head came up nonetheless to follow the conversation. 

“Chest or arms next, Deacy?”

John considered the choices for a moment before answering pointedly. “Chest. If you wrap his arms now they might go numb by the time you’re finished.”

Brian nodded. “Good point.” 

Roger thought it was a good point too, not that anyone had asked him, but as Brian started to loop the rope around the drummer’s chest, he couldn’t help but imagine what arms numb from rope would feel like. Would it be like when your legs go to sleep, or would the tension of the rope create more of a burning sensation? He could feel the coil of rope smooth against his skin, lying flat against the top of his chest, running under his arms to then come back again and run under his chest. The pattern being tied reminded Roger of a harness. He looked down, interested to see the rope moving as Brian focused on the task at hand. 

Every so often the other man’s hands would graze his skin and Roger would perk up a little, reminded and thankful for the trousers he was wearing, given John’s presence in the room. The guitarist checked the fit of the rope and made a noise that Roger took to mean disapproval. He adjusted it, making the rope sit a little higher and a little tighter on his skin. While the rope didn’t bite into him, Roger was aware of its presence the way he was aware of the way a snug shirt sits on the skin. It moved as he did, providing a kind of anchor that Brian pulled at here and there, testing the knots at each junction. He had doubled the rope on itself, making the width of each pass wider and heavier. As it sat, Roger felt himself sagging into it, dropping a bit of his posture to feel the rope bite into his skin just a little more. 

He looked up to see John staring. He was looking past Roger to watch whatever Brian was doing. If he was honest he felt kind of ignored, which was surprising, as all of this was meant for him. He was the centre of attention, but aside from periodically checking in, Brian hadn’t really talked to him since they had begun. This wasn’t like a quick shag in a rehearsal room or a long drawn out blow job in a hotel room: he was a weird kind of teaching aid.

Brian’s leg came into his field of vision, gathering more rope as he knelt down next to the drummer to continue the harness where he had left off. More rope being draped on his skin, more gentle friction from the fibers rubbing against him, as the harness wound down in a diamond pattern from his chest, around to his back, then forward to his belly. Brian made a knot there, but then after adjusting the rope, moved the strand to the back, and then under his legs. 

“Widen your legs a bit please, Rog,” Brian said, moving hands apart to demonstrate how far. Roger widened his stance, being careful to stay on the folded blanket. The different stance was a little strange; he felt a bit off-center, but as long as he kept his back mostly straight, it was fine. The rope running between his legs was snug against his already-snug trousers, brushing against the beginnings of an erection. Brian’s hands brushed from Roger’s shoulders and down his sides, and Roger laughed trying to escape the touch as it shivered down his side. 

“Hey, no tickling when I can’t defend myself!”

“That’s the point of the rope, isn’t it,” Brian replied. Roger could see the humour in his eyes and at the corners of his lips in the soft smile he was wearing. He loved that smile and hated it at the same time – there was always more lurking behind it. 

As though to prove it, he knelt in front of Roger, tracing the growing bulge and drawing a very quiet gasp out of the bound man as the rope was adjusted. The way he crouched in front of Roger blocked John’s view, something Roger assumed John was happy about. The taller man’s eyes met Roger’s for a second, and then Brian started to tie a knot in the rope that rested on his crotch. 

At first Roger didn’t pay any more attention to this knot than he had any of the others. He was a little annoyed that he was wearing something under the rope as it prevented him from feeling it, but he had dismissed it as, first and foremost, a kindness for John. Yes, they had seen each other naked – that was unavoidable when they all changed in the same room – but he didn’t think that John went that way. Still, Brian was taking his time to tie this knot, going over it to make the knot denser and heavier. He adjusted the rope, moving the knot from where it lay previously to rest alongside the bulge of his still waking erection. 

A shiver ran through him. Now he was beginning to understand that rope was sometimes more than rope. Sometimes it was a replacement for a hand. Brian tugged on the rope connected to the knot, rubbing the mass against Roger’s clothed cock. That felt good. The sensation was dulled by the fabric, but he wanted more. It reminded him of being a teenager, trying to get off without taking his clothes off first. It was more than just the knot: it was that Brian was doing it to him, and even that John was there. The collection of sensory inputs was heavenly. 

“Feels good?” Brian asked, and Roger nodded, soaking up the sensation. “Want me to keep doing it?”

Roger could feel his cheeks heat up slightly. Was he embarrassed again? Maybe the sensations were just getting to him. He nodded again, exhaling as Brian’s hand trailed down the rope, occasionally skimming the point of his long fingers onto the thin fabric. 

“I’d like to hear you, Roger.”

“Yes, yes please.” Roger took a deep breath, trying to quell the vibrations under his skin. He barely heard Brian’s confirmation. He tugged the rope, pressing the knot into Roger’s shaft, and after considering one of the supporting knots, re-tied it. 

Brian straightened and stepped back to look the drummer over. He also motioned John closer to look. Roger quickly released where he had been biting his lip and tried in vain to look less wanton.

“What do you think, John?” Roger could see that Brian was pleased, and he was glad that he wasn’t blindfolded and could therefore see the smile on his lover’s face. 

“It looks good. How’s it feel?”

The drummer looked to John, who was crouched before him, looking at the way the rope twisted. Roger’s first impression of the completed harness was that he felt like he was being hugged – a strange, multi-armed hug that gripped him tight without being too tight, and kept pressure and focus between his legs. It felt safe; he felt safe, which he didn’t quite understand. He fidgeted slightly, adjusting his hands, and felt the rope around his crotch seeming to grow a little tighter as the knot clung to him. 

“Good, snug but not tight?” Roger attempted a shrug and failed. He did succeed in moving the knot slightly and hissed out a breath. “I hate these trousers. Why am I wearing them?” 

Brian laughed and John snickered as he stood up and took his previous seat across the room. The bassist answered simply, “Rope burn.” Roger grudgingly admitted that it made some kind of sense.

Brian ran a hand through Roger’s hair, digging his short nails to the scalp and scratching as he dragged his hand through the blond, wavy locks. Roger closed his eyes, drinking in the sensation, and all but purred. That felt really good, and for some reason Roger didn’t understand, not having the use of his hands made it that much hotter. The talented fingers dragged through the tresses again, but this time grasping the ends and pulling Roger’s head back by his hair. 

Roger gasped. The sound caught in his throat and what came out was like panting mixed with a groan. 

“You were being quiet,” Brian said simply, looking down on his partner kneeling in front of him. “Do you want me to gag you?” It was an honest question, an offer, not a power move or a threat. Roger knew Brian well enough to read the nuances in his expression. He sighed in pleasure from the tension on his scalp. 

“No. Maybe later?” he finally answered. The flash in Brian’s eyes was all Roger needed, and he grinned as his hair was released. 

“Ok. I think I will blindfold you, though.” 

Brian’s words surprised Roger, and he glanced from Brian to John for some sort of clarification. He knew, however, that he had no reason to protest; he trusted both men and he was always up for new experiences. “Sure, if you don’t want to see these beautiful blue jewels…” He couldn’t shrug or gesture so he tipped his head. The comment slipped out without any thought; he was Roger Taylor, after all. Roger heard John’s little snort behind Brian, making every syllable worth it. 

The guitarist rolled his own hazel eyes in response. “I’ll survive somehow, Rog.” He grabbed the tie John had tossed him from the bag the rope had been in and looped it over Roger’s eyes, securing it behind his head. 

Darkness surrounded him. 

A hand touched his arm and he jumped at the sensation, causing the rope to briefly squeeze and the knot to rub against the front of his pants. He hummed out a moan and heard someone laugh. 

“I was about to apologize, but you actually seemed to quite enjoy that.” Deacy’s voice was next to him. Roger could just about feel his body heat on his bare skin if he concentrated. Roger laughed and tilted his head until his head touched Deacy’s hand. 

“Everyone wants me,” Roger said. “It’s fine. You can admit it.” He would have been staring up at John’s face if he weren’t blindfolded. He would swear, if asked, that he heard Brian raise an eyebrow, even if he didn’t make a sound. 

“You’re all Brian’s,” the bassist said quietly. “I’m just fixing your wrists and staying out of the way.”

Roger heard the click of a clog dropping to the ground from a foot. When he heard another similar sound and then nothing more, he guessed that Brian was taking his shoes off, as he did when he spent a lot of time in the studio. John’s fingers started to loosen the knots around his wrists, gently unwrapping the rope and examining the skin. They were being too careful, a part of Roger thought; he hadn’t even been tied up that long. The feeling that he was being treated like a china doll flashed in his mind, and he sighed. 

John paused. “That feel ok, Rog?”

“Yes, it’s fine. Honestly.” His voice rose a little bit. “You’re both taking care to an extreme, though. It’s just rope – I’m not made of glass.” 

“If you could see how red your wrists are, you might not think that.” Brian’s voice surprised him and Roger felt his breath catch for a second. The guitarist’s voice was lower, deeper and more serious. John’s hands didn’t pause, even during Brian’s rebuke, and when the rope was off he pulled Roger’s hands to the front. Long fingers skimmed the reddened flesh, draping the rope as he started re-tying the knot higher on the arm and leaving his wrists free. Roger tilted his head back, feeling the rope slowly gather and tighten over his skin. It crossed loosely drawing forearms and elbows together. 

There was a difference between the way the bassist and the guitarist tied. While Brian’s knots were fine, John’s were smoother, and the tension around his arms was more even. It felt as though someone was holding his arms together with one hand. He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“Thanks, John,” Roger heard Brian say. He felt Deacy stand and take a few steps away from them. 

John made a noise of acknowledgement and said something to Brian that Roger couldn’t quite make out. Brian laughed, a genuine laugh that made Roger smile even as questions flew through his mind. What had he said? What did Brian have in mind? What next? He squirmed, testing the rope, and felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine where Brian had previously caressed him. While he didn’t mind being eye candy once in a while, his need to move and to see what was going on around him was starting to try his patience. He squirmed again, and the rope around his waist shifted too. The knot pressed against his already stiffening cock, rubbing with each movement and reminding him of its presence. He growled. 

At that sound, hands carded through his hair, long and skilled fingers grabbing and twisting at the scalp. Shivers of pain from each pulled strand raced through him, as the fingers gathered up the hair and tilted his head up. Roger complied easily, a warm and welcome sensation oozing into his veins even as his heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t see or touch the person, but he assumed it was Brian that had his hair in handfuls. He could hear him breathing a little louder. 

“Are you going to be OK with the blindfold on?” Brian asked. Roger was relieved that his guess was correct and that Brian was the one with his hand tangled in his hair, his tones soft and reassuring as always, though perhaps a bit more serious. They hadn’t done blindfolds with restraints before, and this was their first time with any serious amount of rope. It was exciting – his cock was already starting to harden, even encumbered by the rope knot pressing against him. Roger found himself experiencing a mixture of both relief and irritation that Brian was taking the time to ask if everything was ok.

“Yes! Bri, I’m OK, I’ll tell you if I’m not, promise.” Roger added to himself, trying not to sound desperate (and failing).

“If your mouth is full that might be hard to do.” Brian’s voice was low, not just soft but making it so Roger had to concentrate on what Brian was saying. 

“I’ll tap your leg!” Roger countered. The thought of being blindfolded and bound while giving a blowjob was a wonderful thought indeed. Yeah, he’d give one of those, please. 

“That’s a good idea. Good thing I asked Deacy to retie your arms in front of you.” Brian’s hand was now softly running through Roger’s hair, distracted. “Maybe it won’t even be my dick; maybe I’ll ask John to step in and you can blow him instead. Are you OK with that?”

“What?” Clearly didn’t hear that correctly. “Did you just ask if I was OK with sucking John’s dick? When you’re right there…? No offense, John.” 

“None taken,” John replied coolly from a spot a few feet away. 

“That is what I asked,” Brian said, his hand still gently running through Roger’s hair.

Roger’s cheeks felt warm, a blush rising from his chest and up his neck, right up under the blindfold. His arousal had dipped and now was climbing again. The thought of blowing John wasn’t repulsive; quite the opposite. It was something that he had thought about more than a few times. John wearing tight pants that left little to the imagination while they were rehearsing and performing. Roger had even told Brian how great John’s arse looked on multiple occasions in private. 

Brian knew this and was now giving him this opportunity. What’s more, John was clearly in on it, and they were playing it cool in case Roger didn’t want to go through with it. 

“Not tonight,” he found himself saying. “Not… Not that I don’t want to, John, because I do. _Fuck_ I do. I just want, er, Brian tonight.” 

“OK, Rog, another time. Have fun, Brian,” Deacy replied almost immediately after Roger finished speaking. To Roger’s relief, there didn’t seem to be any hurt feelings. 

“I’ll get the rope back to you in the morning.” Brian said, always the practical one. He released Roger’s tangled hair from his fingers and took a couple steps away. Roger heard the door to the room shutting, a door lock, then footsteps. 

“You just want me tonight.” It was such a simple statement, drawn out in that lilting way of Brian’s, and yet it was one that gave Roger goosebumps. Brian’s body was close enough that Roger was able to lean against the taller man’s legs. He felt himself shiver when Brian asked, “How much do you want me, Rog?” 

“Jesus, Brian, you know it’s a lot.” He reflexively pulled against the rope on his arms, trying to see if he could free a hand or even get his fingers out. The rope held firm. He grunted in frustration before sighing in defeat. Whoever taught Deacy how to tie knots had done a good job. 

Brian’s hand smoothed over his shoulder and rested gently on the back of his neck.

“Just a lot? You can do better than that,” Brian softly prompted. “Or I can untie you and we can go home, if you’d prefer.”

He didn’t need the blindfold removed to see the smile on his partner’s face as he gave Roger the choice. “Bri. _Please_ ,” he was dangerously close to whining and frankly he didn’t care. The lack of any substantial touch was starting to bother him, and the knot stroking him through fabric was only making him more aroused without offering any sort of hope of release. If he moved his hips _just_ the right way he could get a small amount of friction against his cock. It was good, but not nearly enough. 

The sound of rustling just above him made Roger look up. He licked his lips, and when he heard Brian take in a sharp breath, he licked them again. Long fingers reached down to stroke his cheek, brushing back a few stray blond hairs and tracing a line down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. A calloused fingertip traced his bottom lip, and Roger let his tongue peek out just enough to swipe at the edge of it, making it pause and allowing him to draw it in and over the thicker part of his tongue. He quickly wrapped his lips around the index finger, humming as he licked down the sides with the point of his tongue, then washed the finger with the flat of it. Brian sighed above him, shifting his weight and running his other hand through Roger’s hair. 

“This — Is this what you want?” Brian asked, the words sounded slightly strained. Roger couldn’t help but smile around the finger. Making the articulate guitarist forgot how to speak was always fun, and Roger intended on doing just that. Only having his mouth to work with wasn’t going to be problem; no, not for Roger Taylor. 

“Not just that,” Roger said after pulling away from the finger and letting it slide from his lips. A thin strand of saliva connected the two for a moment, and Roger licked his lips again to break it. He wished he could see Brian right now, with his pupils wide and a red blush starting to appear. Brian’s breathing was starting to quicken, like the tempo of a song he knew well. “More, please.” 

A hand placed underneath Roger’s chin tipped it up, the same calloused fingers scratching the skin. “Tell me what you want, Roger.” There was a slight urgency there, not the words of a bored man, but one that was just as involved as he was. A man that was excited to move things on. “You never have a problem asking for what you want.”

No, he didn’t. It had never been embarrassing to ask, and he had quickly discovered how much Brian loved when he asked, begged, and demanded for what he desired in the most descriptive way possible. These bindings and blindfold just made him feel vulnerable. He shuffled a little closer, the rope reminding him of its presence when he moved on his knees. It almost felt like a hand gripping, and this only spurred him on. 

“I want your cock, Brian,” he whispered, swallowing, his mouth feeling dry as his arousal grew. “Please give me your cock, whatever way you want... just, please.” His voice grew just a little bit more desperate, nuzzling closer to the growing bulge in Brian’s pants. He felt the other man hum, just short of a groan. “Please let me make you feel good —”

“Fuck,” Brian interrupted, his hands flying down to undo buttons and zipper, gently nudging Roger’s face out of the way. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Brian’s soft flesh touched his lips and Roger eagerly took it into his mouth, his tongue repeating the actions of pointed tongue contrasted with a broad stroke of the flat part. Every action brought another little noise from the man above him. Roger struggled slightly to stay up without the use of his hands. Taking the organ a little deeper than usual, he hollowed his cheeks, drawing back off it almost completely before enveloping the length again and again. 

Brian moaned, a delicious sound to Roger’s ears that only made him quicken his pace to the throb in his own cock. He ignored the start of an ache in his jaw and shoulder, giving up control to the hands creeping back into his hair, elongating the thrust to Brian’s preference. The smell and taste of sweat and arousal seemed to be the only things he had in the darkness of the blindfold alongside the sounds above him. Brian’s breathing had become quicker, muttered moans of profanity and disbelief reaching the drummer’s ears and encouraging him even further. 

“That feels good,” Brian gasped, slightly louder than his usual soft voice. “Oh, so good. You are too… good at this.”

Roger hummed in modest agreement, receiving another gasp as a reward. He knew that Brian’s head would be thrown back by now, his eyes closed as he approached climax. Roger wished he had his hands free to touch him; that his blindfold could be gone so he could see him. 

“Deeper, Rog.” Brian said it so quickly and quietly that Roger almost missed it. He relaxed so that the head slipped deeper, and he swallowed back a gag at the last moment. Then he swallowed again and again, feeling the hands in his hair clench and short nails dig into his scalp. Brian was close, his legs trembling just a little and moans coming in short, sharp shudders. 

Breathing through his nose, Roger pressed forward, the head of Brian’s cock bumping the back of his throat. He relaxed his jaw as much as possible, ignoring the ache that was starting. That was what it took to unravel the guitarist. He was still for only a moment before he groaned, then came down Roger’s throat, his hips shuddering forward and a string of nonsense streaming from his mouth in gasps, interspersed with Roger’s name. Roger barely tasted the liquid, most going down his throat and the rest quickly swallowed. He slowly pulled off the softening organ, then tilted his head up and licked his lips with some exaggeration, earning a gasping laugh from Brian. 

“Do you want that blindfold off?” 

Roger nodded, but shook his head when asked the same question about the rope,the knot pressing against him making him gasp. 

“Look how hard you are.” Brian said it as though this was an amazing discovery to science and not at all extremely obvious. He gently took the blindfold off, smoothing hair back, and then crouched to press his lips to Roger’s. 

Roger melted into the kiss. His pants felt too small and the rope now omnipresent. He was straining against the fabric, and a brush against the rope made Roger shudder. Brian gave an experimental tug on the rope wound around Roger’s groin to the same response. 

“I bet you can come without taking the rope off.” The darker haired man smiled, grabbing one small section of rope and gently tugging it towards him.

“I bet you’re right,” Roger responded, willing the blush to stop rising in his cheeks and neck. “I don’t know how, but I probably could.” The outline of his erection was now very prominent, and he pressed himself against Brian’s chest. He made a questioning “hmm?” sound when the other man unexpectedly pulled away and stood up. Roger looked up at him, narrowing his eyebrows at the guitarist. “Shouldn’t you be down here?”

Brian shook his head, taking a step closer before hesitating. He slowly put one foot ahead of the other, and took a moment to balance his weight with a hand on the chair Deacy had abandoned. “I think I know how you can come without taking the rope off.”

Roger stared in confusion. Between the blood prioritizing his dick over his brain and his frayed senses, it wasn’t clicking. He slowly let his eyes travel up the long, lean leg of the guitarist before his eyes moved up to meet Brian’s.

“Rog.” 

Brian spoke his name as he shifted his weight, drawing attention to the offered leg again and this time sparking some recognition in Roger’s mind. The blush in his cheeks darkened and his breath caught for a moment. Was he really suggesting _that?_ A thrill went straight to his cock and Brian’s unspoken offer, now becoming clear, unfolded in front of him. He shuffled forward on his knees, heart pounding in his ears like the drums from his monitor on stage as he straddled Brian’s foot, the rope knot brushing against the top of the sock covered foot and sending sparks through his body. He shivered and looked up, eyes wide and seeking something like permission from Brian to tell him it was OK to go ahead. Maybe with a go ahead it would seem like less of his idea. “Bri?”

The smile Brian gave was like a light in the dark, and the “go ahead” motion of his head was enough to accept that ok, he was really going to get off by essentially humping Brian’s leg. Fuck. He was going to do this.

The first movement towards Brian’s leg brought a shudder up his spine, the taboo of what he was doing heavy and dark in his mind. Dragging the rope knot up the leg, back and across the foot started a rhythm like an awkward handjob, the push and friction enough to start to build within him and make his breath quicken. 

“Oh, that is so,” Brian was speaking in a soft and faraway voice, words dipping in and out. “I’m getting hard again, already. Damn, Roger.” The last words were uttered in a hiss and Roger looked up with his cheeks burning to see Brian’s face full of lust and want. It went straight to his heart, and then his dick. Brian hummed, his eyes meeting Roger’s for a moment before the drummer looked away. 

John had been clever when he tied the rope up his forearms, leaving enough of a gap and enough slack in the rope to allow him to grasp Brian’s leg and avoid shifting too far away, but still enabling him to focus on what he was doing. He could already feel everything tensing, the soft burn from the fabric of his trousers unhindered by his decision to go commando today. It felt so wrong, but so good, and the embarrassment and humiliation added fuel to the fire. 

“Can you come for me?” 

Brian’s voice was quieter than usual, and Roger’s movement did make a bit of noise, so he almost didn’t hear Brian’s question. When it registered he groaned, staring at the one point on Brian’s trousers he had fixed on since this started. “Fuck, Brian.” There was that whine again. 

“Roger?”

“Yes —” he gasped out the answer, the impending trip to the cliff from almost-to-orgasm to coming in his pants swiftly approaching. His mind was already replaying every sexual act the two had participated in, not because he wasn’t enjoying what he was doing; his body told him he very much was, but he had to keep from thinking that he, a grown man, was rutting against Brian’s leg and enjoying it so much. The thought of Brian asking him to do this again or, heaven forbid, of his doing this to John (at this thought his breath caught) was the final straw. He would do it, eagerly and happily if asked, because fuck, it felt good. 

The orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, seemingly innocuous at first, then suddenly there was a swell and he was overwhelmed. It was all too much; he would drown in the sensations as the endorphins rushed through him. He came with a shout, a mixture of noises and what might be Brian’s name. He collapsed against the guitarist’s leg, the wet splotch on the front of his trousers ignored, as well as the small pinpricks of aftershocks running through him. His trousers suddenly seemed heavy on his over sensitized skin, the rope knot like a rock clinging to him and reminding him of what just happened. 

Brian pulled his foot out as gently as he could from underneath Roger, making Roger wince. The taller man knelt in front of him, long arms wrapping around him as Roger’s head spun with sensation, emotions, and pleasure. A long moment passed, both men content to be wrapped up in their own world within a shared one. Brian only eventually pulled away, despite Roger’s protests, to start untying the rope on Roger’s arms. 

“Jesus, Brian, I don’t know where you came up with that, but keep reading whatever it is.” He looked up from watching the rope unfurl on his arms, leaving red marks in its wake. He wondered if they would still be there tomorrow for their show. 

Brian had the faintest hint of a blush on his face. He set the rope aside and smiled a small, but lopsided smile. “John did, actually.”

“Kinky bastard,” Roger remarked with a grin, rubbing his arms to warm them and to help dissolve the marks and indentations. He let Brian begin untying the rope criss-crossing his body. “It’s always the quiet ones. Well, we need to see what other ideas he has… and if he wants to join us next time.”


End file.
